


As Long As You Don't Tell Me To

by ThornsWithoutRoses, wolfyevans



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Decapitation, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Episode Fix-It: s01e06 Rare Species, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hugs, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, dont worry no one important dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25603147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornsWithoutRoses/pseuds/ThornsWithoutRoses, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfyevans/pseuds/wolfyevans
Summary: Jaskier knew that things weren’t exactly looking good for him. All he had done was innocently wander through the forest, strumming at his lute and humming a tune he liked but would never remember. But good things didn’t last with Jaskier; they never had and presumably never would. The knife at Jaskier’s throat was just as good an indicator as any that his quiet pace through the woods was, in fact, one of the more unfortunate ideas he’d allowed into existence.Where Jaskier finds himself in an unfortunate situation with a bandit, but luckily, Geralt saves him. Unluckily, they now have to talk about what Geralt did to Jaskier up on the mountain that one fateful day.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 332





	As Long As You Don't Tell Me To

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @ThornsWithoutRoses , my lovely girlfriend, for making this understandable to everyone, and not just me <33

Jaskier knew that things weren’t exactly looking good for him. All he had done was innocently wander through the forest, strumming at his lute and humming a tune he liked but would never remember. But good things didn’t last with Jaskier; they never had and presumably never would. The knife at Jaskier’s throat was just as good an indicator as any that his quiet pace through the woods was, in fact, one of the more unfortunate ideas he’d allowed into existence. 

“Give me all the coin on your person, bard.” The bandit spit the word “bard” like it was an insult, despite Jaskier dedicating his whole life to the art. Jaskier realized with growing dismay that he was fresh out of coin, and his lovely little trot through the woods was to distract himself from the fact that he was penniless, and maybe give him the motivation to play about his White Wolf again. It had accomplished neither, disappointingly, and would apparently lead to his death. Maybe death was just the ultimate motivation, and the crippling loneliness he felt in his last moments would be nothing more than a muse at some point in the distant future. 

It wasn’t looking like that, however. 

“I apologize, sir, I seem to be fresh out of coin. Now, if you really wouldn’t mind, I can be right on my way and just not say a word—Mph!” Despite Jaskier having used his silver tongue to escape many a dire circumstance, his words failed him, and his speech only seemed to anger the man more, who delivered a quick blow to his stomach. 

“No coin on you? Then what’s a useless bard like you going to do for me, eh?” The bandit sneered with a lisp of someone who’d lost several teeth. Jaskier didn’t bother arguing his own case. He was long gone, anyways, and he’d be arguing a point he didn’t believe in. “Finally speechless, little weasel? If I knew all it would take it telling you that you’re purposeless filth better left for dead to shut you up, I would have done that hours ago.” The man laughed.  _ It wouldn’t have been so long if you just let me and my empty pockets be, _ Jaskier snarked to himself. Had it really been hours? It seemed simultaneously like 3 minutes and a couple centuries. The knife at his throat dug in just a little bit deeper, a small amount of blood welling around the knife, before a quick  _ shink! _ blew by Jaskier’s left ear. Jaskier felt the knife fall away, and upon looking to the bandit curiously, he found the man decapitated and spilling blood all over the dried leaves. Jaskier gagged at the sight. 

“Oh, lovely. That’s not going in the memoirs.” Jaskier muttered to himself. Jaskier then remembered that heads don’t just do that, and there was someone nearby who had taken pity on the poor bard. Jaskier quickly looked around, taking note of any recent disturbances from not the direction he and the bandit had come from. Soon, Jaskier’s eyes landed on Geralt. Jaskier quickly felt all the pain he’d repressed hit him square in the chest, but none of the anger. He’d long since stopped being angry, rather channeling that energy into even more quiet self hatred. Geralt looked deeply uncomfortable, to say the least. Geralt cleared his throat. 

“Hello, Jaskier.” Geralt mumbled with the enthusiasm of a dried carcass. Jaskier flinched. 

“We can skip the introductions, Geralt. We both know you want nothing to do with me, so I can just quickly express my gratitude for not allowing me to die and be on my way.” Jaskier said, voice unwavering through years of practice. With every word Jaskier felt his heart break and pulse even more, but he ignored it. 

“That’s not what I want.” Geralt said. Jaskier blinked. 

“Geralt, you don’t need to pretend to tolerate me out of pity. You’ve never felt the need to before, so why start now? I can take all the icky feelings and be on my merry way! Repression has always been one of my strongest suits, following my beautiful songwriting, of course.” Jaskier gave Geralt a quick and abhorrently disingenuine smile to match with his sickeningly bubbly tone. Geralt seemed to be becoming more and more pained as Jaskier continued to speak. 

“That’s not what I want.” Geralt repeated, clearly frustrated. Jaskier squinted at the man. 

“I’m afraid I’m not following.” Jaskier decreed, his painfully cheery tone contradicting his words. Geralt looked him dead in the eyes. 

“What do  _ you _ want, bard?” Geralt asked. Even though this was a record number of words coming from his White Wolf, Jaskier was still lost to the seven seas about what Geralt could possibly mean. 

“What do you mean ‘what do I want’?” Jaskier said skeptically. 

“What do you want to happen next? With...us?” Geralt grunted, looking like he’d rather be flung off the nearest cliff. 

“Witcher, darling, we both know that your wants only matter when you do. You clearly expressed that I was more a nuisance than I’m worth, and that’s okay. I won’t force you to be subjected to any more of me.” Jaskier said this with the same intonation as a man talking of the weather, or something equally as concrete and factual. 

“You matter.” Geralt said in all his confused glory. Jaskier snorted a pained and disbelieving laugh. 

“Now, let’s not lie to ourselves now, Witcher darling.” Jaskier teased. Geralt was not having it, and Jaskier was becoming more and more uncomfortable with how the conversation was ending up. Jaskier has given him several outs, so why had Geralt taken none of them? It was obvious that Geralt hated Jaskier more than Jaskier hated himself, so why force himself to stick around?

“I’m not lying.” Geralt grunted. “You matter.” A pause. “To a lot of people.” A longer pause. “And to me.” Jaskier felt himself go still. 

“Geralt, hate to disagree—” Jaskier started before Geralt cut him off. 

“Stop telling me what I think!” Geralt yelled. Jaskier immediately quieted, looking a bit hurt and a lot like an injured puppy. It made Geralt’s heart hurt. To think that the wonderful bard he’d somehow managed to keep around for a reasonable chunk of his life was reduced to a flinching and self-loathing man, not willing to see himself as worth anyone’s time. And all because of him. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked quietly. 

“You matter. To me. The things I said on the mountain,” Jaskier flinched and looked down, having clearly taken his words to heart, “weren’t true. I was upset and you were there, and I yelled at you.” Geralt explained, pausing awkwardly but still getting there in the end. 

“Why wouldn’t you have meant it?” Jaskier asked. Geralt was taken aback. In all the run-throughs Geralt had imagined, that was never one he received. 

“What?” Geralt needed clarity. The question felt more like a random grouping of words than a sentence with meaning. Jaskier shrunk in on himself a little more. 

“All you’ve ever done our entire companionship was remind me that I only serve to give you problems. How in the Continent could you, admitting that me giving you these unending frustrations were unpleasant, be untrue?” Jaskier asked as eloquently as ever. Geralt paused. 

“You’ve given me more than problems.” Geralt informed the other man. Jaskier gave another horrible snort. 

“Like what? Injuries? Lighter pockets?” Jaskier’s tone was light and joking. How could Jaskier so genuinely believe this little of himself? Was it all Geralt’s doing? 

“Like a reputation I can visit towns with.” Geralt said. That struck Jaskier quiet. That really had been his goal, after all. Improve the Witcher’s horrendous reputation in exchange for allowing Jaskier to travel with the man. Jaskier shook his head, determined that he was correct. 

“Well, then, I guess I’ve got no purpose traveling with you!” Jaskier expressed, wiping the now crusted blood at his hand. He’d almost forgotten the rusted knife at his neck and the corpse at his feet. 

“You aren’t useless, Jaskier! I enjoy having you around!” Geralt yelled, his frustration at himself and the bard threatening to boil over. Now Jaskier really paused. 

“Who are you, and what have you done to my Geralt?” Jaskier asked hesitantly. Ignoring the way hope perked you in his gut at Jaskier’s use of the word “my,” Geralt frowned at the bard he’d ruined so thoroughly. 

“I’m sorry. For doing this to you.” Geralt apologized. Jaskier looked even more bewildered and concerned. “You didn’t—don’t—deserve the way I treated you. It was cruel of me.” Geralt sighed. 

“But I did deserve it.” Jaskier said. Geralt growled. 

“No, you didn’t! You deserve infinitely better than anything I could give you.” Geralt said firmly. Jaskier felt like his world was being thrown about. “But I’ve never claimed to be a selfless man.” Geralt muttered. Jaskier felt hope rise in his stomach, though he quickly beat down the feeling with as much ferocity as he could manage. 

“I apologize, Geralt. It’s truly amazing how many words you’ve managed to string together, but I’m afraid I really don’t get what you mean. By any of them.” Geralt sighed. 

“Will you travel the path with me again, bard?” Geralt asked after a moment. “Please? I like having you around.” Geralt admitted. 

“Is this a joke?” Jaskier asked. Geralt shook his head. He was expecting trust issues, but not this many. 

“No, bardling, this isn’t a joke.” 

“Will you leave me on another mountain again?” Jaskier asked, the most vulnerable he’d been this entire conversation. Geralt felt his heart pang heaving at the insinuation. 

“Never. Never going to make that mistake again.” Geralt admitted, feeling very out of place being this vulnerable. Jaskier took a moment. Several moments, really. 

“Okay.” Jaskier said finally. Geralt felt forbidden happiness build in his chest. 

“Okay?” He checked. Jaskier nodded. 

“Okay.” Geralt felt himself smile, and Jaskier gaped at him. Geralt stepped over the fresh corpse he’d managed to forget and quickly embraced Jaskier in a hug, despite the stiff and unmoving form of the bard. Jaskier slowly wrapped his arms around Geralt in return, clearly lost in this very new situation. 

“Please don’t leave me again.” Geralt whispered. Because he was selfish; he was undoubtedly and completely selfish, and wanted the bard all to himself. 

“As long as you don’t tell me to.” Jaskier replied. And Geralt, even with his many flaws and his unrelenting tendency to lash out, considered this a win. Even if things weren’t back to how they were, any amount of Jaskier was better than none. Geralt needed Jaskier, and it took losing him to learn it.


End file.
